She woke up before dawn the next morning, knowing that her internal clock was still pretty off, but she felt rested enough. She didn’t remember waking up and setting her laptop on her dresser, but she must have done so at some point in the night.

Jenna found a few others up and about in the kitchen. She met Matt, Kendra and Stephanie, all of whom were from California. They were a few years older than she was, but they were nice and welcoming. Stephanie, the tallest of the three, with a small braid in her hair and bright blue eyes, grinned and invited her to join them for breakfast.

“It’s a traditional Al Mezindan breakfast,” Kendra said. She had a round, pretty face, with dark eyes behind cat-eye glasses. She smiled as she passed Jenna a plate.

“What is all of this?” Jenna asked, amazed.

Matt smiled as he took the barstool next to her. He had the typical California look, with the wavy, surfer blond hair, and green eyes. His skin was so tan that he must have spent every summer outside since he was three.

He sure isn’t bad looking, Jenna thought, but not quite my type. He looked more like a boy than a man to her. Besides, he was probably dating one of the girls he came with.

He pointed to the platter on the tray in front of her and said, “A selection of traditional pastries filled with dates, nuts, and spices,” and then pointed to the biggest plate. “And over here are some eggs, some cheeses…”

“And, of course,” Kendra chirped, passing Jenna a steaming cup across the counter, “a hot cup of Al Mezindan coffee.”

Jenna clasped the cup in her hands as if it were made of tissue paper and might fall apart at any moment.

“Wow,” she breathed, inhaling the roasted aroma of the coffee. “Thank you so much,” she said, and the three of them beamed at her.

“Don’t mention it,” Kendra said, and grabbing a tray of her own, slid into the stool on Jenna’s other side.

The tour guide appeared outside the hostel at a little after nine, and Jenna, as well as her new Californian acquaintances, all gathered around to begin their journey. The tour guide spoke perfect English and explained that he was more than happy to act as a translator for the tourists once they reached the city center.

Jenna was almost vibrating in her sneakers, she was so excited. She told herself that she couldn’t buy everything she saw that day, and that she still had two months and twenty-eight days to go on her trip. Saving money was definitely a priority, but she knew that she had to get something special as a reminder of her first full day in Al Mezinda.

The city of Yordan was sprawling and alien. The smell of the air was not unpleasant, but different, like fire and sand. The tour guide brought the group to a large bazaar in the center of the city. Jenna was glad that she was with a group, because the bazaar alone was nearly as big as her neighborhood back home, with no obvious layout.

More than once, Jenna found herself engrossed in a stall, only to look up and see her group farther up ahead, and she would dash off to keep up. Her Californian hostel-mates had apparently been to Beirut the summer before, and had come back for a two-week trip to explore nearby Al Mezinda.

Seeing the locals everywhere thrilled her, and made the experience feel real. People who lived and worked and loved there. Who had families there, who were born and died there.

The thing that stood out to her most was the sheer amount of color everywhere. Everything was so bright and vibrant, from the clothes people wore, to the foods, to the stands that people bartered things in.

Jenna purchased some fruit which the tour guide had suggested, as well as a shawl for Alanna, and a pair of earrings for her mother. They were made with jade, and were very pretty yet inexpensive. Jenna had seen the artist with a pair of needle-nose pliers seated behind the table, already working hard on another piece.

It was almost noon when their tour guide brought them to a part of the bazaar where many local artists set up their easels, because many of the iconic buildings in the city were easily seen from the plaza. Several were working on pieces while people browsed their completed projects, and the tour group split up to look at all of the paintings, sketches and photographs.

Jenna wandered over to a small, lonely-looking booth and discovered a woman who painted tiny flowers on little pieces of glass and crystal. The detail was so intricate that it took Jenna’s breath away. There was one—a glass pendant with a vibrant pink flower veined with yellow—that really caught her eye.

The woman looked up and saw Jenna gazing at the glass stone, and she smiled as she got to her feet. Jenna met her eyes, and for a moment, the two communicated without words. There was a beautiful life and light in her eyes, and Jenna smiled at her. The woman ran a finger over the necklace, and then looked meaningfully at Jenna.

Jenna looked around, but her tour guide was a few booths back, obviously moving toward the main bazaar. She looked back at the woman.

She pulled out her wallet, and a few bills of different numeric value. She still was unsure about the conversion rates of American to Al Mezindan dollars, though she knew it was roughly triple.

The woman looked at the bills in Jenna’s hand and pointed to the one with the one hundred on it. Jenna flushed, but quickly reminded herself that it wasn’t one hundred dollars, but something closer to thirty. She swallowed, and knew she wouldn’t spend that much on a necklace like this back in the States, but this was her once in a lifetime experience. Who was she to deny herself something so beautiful?

Jenna passed the woman the one hundred note, and the woman smiled broadly. Jenna wondered fleetingly if she had just had the wool pulled over her eyes, but the woman handed her the necklace, and immediately Jenna didn’t care if it had cost twice as much.

The woman pulled a small mirror from a bag on the table, and Jenna fumbled with the necklace to put it on. It rested well, not too short and not too long of a chain, and the stone itself was beautiful. The glass glittered in the sunlight, and the flowers were bright and vibrant. She moved the tiny glass piece back and forth, watching as the light reflected on the mirror, sending sparkles into the ceiling of the stall tent.

“Thank you,” Jenna said, and the woman nodded and grinned in reply.

Jenna turned around to where she had last seen the tour guide and the others in her group, but she could not see them. She walked a few paces up, past a few more stalls, and still she could not see her group. She was in a narrow part of the bazaar, and as she looked around, she could see some long alleys that connected back to the main area.

Anxiety started to bubble up inside of her, but she told herself that she was being foolish. The tour guide would not allow anyone to be left behind here. The bazaar was too big, too vast, too easy to get lost in.

She swallowed hard and continued to look into each and every face that she walked by.

Then, she spotted Stephanie and Matt at a stall at the far end of an alley, between two of the tall buildings she had walked by. Jenna knew she could walk all the way around the building and risk missing them again once she got back to the main bazaar, or she could pass through one of the alleys and reach them in no time.

The alley was dark, and every instinct in her told her to stay out in the sunlight where it was warm and safe.

You’re being paranoid, she told herself. You’ll be in that alley for what, fifteen seconds? You’ll be fine. Don’t be such a scaredy-cat.

She held her bag more tightly over her shoulder, straightened her back, and then stepped into the alley. It was cool in the shadows, out of the heat of the sun, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She didn’t want to stumble over any boxes or crates that may have been left out behind the buildings.

There were a few other darker, narrower alleys that connected to this one, a back access to all of the buildings in the city square. The walk was a lot longer than she had originally thought, but she tried to keep her calm, and picked up her pace.

There was a bright flash of sunlight on something long, narrow, and silver, and before she realized what was happening, there were rough hands grabbing at her shoulders and arm. They yanked her sideways into one of the narrower alleyways, and she let out a yelp, but the motion nearly knocked the wind from her lungs as she collided with a stone wall.

Stars danced in her vision, and she felt something warm and wet running down the side of her face from her hairline. She tried to reach up and touch her face, but one of her hands was pinned against her side. It was so dark that she couldn’t see anything aside from the sunlight in the far ends of the alleys.

Jenna felt a rough cloth being stuffed between her teeth, and then another gag being tied over it, preventing her shrieks from sounding anything more than a muffled moan, no matter how hard she fought. She felt her hands be wrenched behind her back and tied behind her. She tried to pull away, tried to think of everything that she had ever learned in the self-defense classes she had taken when she was a teenager. She tried to twist her wrist to slide through the grip of whoever held onto her, but they had too tight of a hold.

Jenna struck out with her foot and landed a hit on someone’s foot, for she heard what sounded like a curse and a shuffling of hands behind her. She caught a glimpse of a man in a mask, with wide shoulders and dark eyes. She heard other voices behind her, and as she struggled and hollered, she realized that her worst fears were becoming reality.